“No. It’s—I can’t...”

“It feels good?” He smiled against her hairline, blowing softly behind her ear as he returned to lightly pinching and toying with her nipples.

“Yes.” She hung her head as though tortured beyond her bearing. She shifted restlessly, arching her breasts into his hands while pressing her ass deeper into his crotch, rocking with invitation.

Exquisite.

“Are you feeling needy, angel? Do you want my hands under your skirt? Here?” He released one breast to slide his palm down her stomach, then pressed the fall of silk deep into the hot valley between her thighs. When he flexed his grip against her mound, the noise she made was incredibly erotic, making his skin feel too tight to contain him.

“I like my hand here, too,” he assured her in a graveled voice, squeezing in gentle but firm rhythm, enjoying the kinky sensation of trapping her in a vise of pleasure so she shook and wriggled for escape but had nowhere to go.

He nudged her feet open so he could step between them and pressed forward, giving her a firm seat for the grind of her ass against his aching erection while he tongued her earlobe. The sexy noises that emerged from her throat and the rock of her loins against his throbbing sex were an erotic purgatory he could have lived in forever.

“Harder,” she moaned, dropping her hand to cover his.

“Keep your hands on the glass, Fliss. Or I’ll stop.” That was a lie. There was no possible way he wanted to stop. He wanted to fondle her until she broke, but he needed to stay in control. If she started running things, this would be over in a short minute.

He nearly lost it anyway when she dutifully set her hand back on the glass and he glimpsed the way she bit her lips in contrition. Damn, he wanted to kiss that mouth of hers.

But her obedience had granted him permission to continue having his way with her.

With a growled noise of approval, he straightened enough to gather her skirt with both hands until he could burrow beneath the silk to thighs that trembled at his first touch. He stroked all over the warm skin, everywhere that he could reach, from thighs to buttocks to lower back, then forward to her stomach and back down to her thighs.

Her ass wore a V-shaped slash of silver lace held up by three narrow bands of midnight blue strung across her hips. The delicate lace trapped his hand when he slid his touch inside the front. Her plump mound was like holding heaven. She moaned and stepped her feet farther apart, pressing into his touch, all slick and hungry and helpless to her own desires. When she rocked against his fingers, coating them in her essence, he felt omnipotent.

“I want you like this,” he said in a guttural voice he barely recognized. “I want to be inside you right here. Like this.”

He wanted a thousand other things, too. He wanted his mouth here where his fingers were making her whimper. He wanted her tongue in his mouth and her naked body riding his. He wanted their sweaty bodies contorting into every lewd act he could think of, but right now, he needed to be inside her.

Miraculously, she dipped her lower back and lifted her hips with invitation.

“Yes. I want that, too.”

Felicity had thought she was waiting for love. For romance. For commitment and a sense of a future with a man. She didn’t look down on women who engaged in casual sex, but she had never imagined it was for her. Until now.

Until this man made her feel that walking away without seeing where this could go would be cheating herself in some way. Even in the elevator, as she’d recognized how effortlessly he made clear this was a one-night stand, she had sensed that if she didn’t seize this chance to be with him, even for a few hours, she would regret it.

And here she was, regretting nothing, despite behaving in a way that was so flagrant it bordered on debauchery. She was letting him touch her in very intimate ways. He was commanding her to keep her hands on the glass, and she did it because she needed to have sex with him or she would die. Literally die. That was how it felt.

When he removed his hand from her tanga, she moaned in loss. But she could feel the brush of his knuckles against her backside as he released himself from his fly.

The hot weight of his erection sat against the lace that descended into the crease of her buttocks. In the glass, she saw him bite the edge of a small square packet.

“I like your underwear,” he told her as he covered himself with the condom. “You’ll have to bill me for the replacement.”

Before she processed what he meant, the thin cords at her hips snapped and they fell away.

“Oh.” The sad sob in her throat turned into a more carnal “Oh” as he swept his touch all over the flesh he’d bared, reigniting the fires of need inside her.

Then he was guiding the thick crown of his erection to explore those same slick, eager places, seeking her entrance. Prodding.

She bit her lip, tensing. She’d only done this once before, literally once. Would it hurt the same way?

The pressure increased, hinting at discomfort, but she was so wet and he was so gradual, giving light pulses of his hips as he rolled his fingertip around the swollen knot of her clit. He teased her into relaxing and accepting the unfamiliar intrusion.

At the last moment, she instinctually arched, and that was it. He slid all the way in so his hips were flush against her buttocks. The fabric of his trousers was an abrasion against the backs of her thighs. His steely shape stretched and filled her so she quivered at the thoroughness of his possession.

His hands clasped her hips, holding her steady. His breath hissed, then he leaned over her and his teeth opened against her nape, threatening to bite before he turned it into a hot, wet suckle that had her toes curling in her shoes.

She didn’t know how to make sense of all these sensations. The combination of hot arousal and erotic titillation and the wildness of the whole experience was overwhelming, quelling her ability to think. She simply was.

He started to move, and the magnitude of the experience exploded.

Waves of pleasure rolled up and down her body with the slide of his hand across her naked torso. The retreat and return of his lovemaking was carnal and raw and so delicious she couldn’t help making animalistic noises of pleasure. She was an animal. She’d been caught in the forest by a potential mate, and that was what they were doing. Mating. It was earthy and primal and pure.

“Can you come like this?” he asked against her ear. “Or do you need...” His long fingers swept to the front of her thighs again. He caressed where he was moving with slow, deliberate power, then higher, plucking at her swollen clit.

A storm gathered within her. She couldn’t speak because all the energy in the universe had shrunk to a fine point inside her. All that existed was the astounding pleasure coiling in her loins, gathering.

In rough desperation, she pushed herself backward into his thrusts, increasing the impact of his hips.

He grunted in surprise. One hand shifted to bite into her waist, and the speed of his thrusts increased. His hips slapped her buttocks, and the nucleus of need inside her detonated, expanding outward like a supernova.

She cried out with the strength of her climax, but his shout was louder. He pounded into her, engulfing her in a fire that should have incinerated her but only licked and burned and melded her so indelibly with him, she didn’t imagine how they could ever be separated.

Saint left later than he should have and had to sleep on the flight rather than using the time to prepare his presentation as he’d originally planned. That was his first misstep.

He hadn’t meant to crash on impact, but the dubious thrill of creating slides of market analysis tables was no match for his lack of sleep and abundance of energetic sex.

What the hell had even happened to him? He’d been wrung dry in those first moments in the living room. He’d been emptied of thought and strength and purpose by an orgasm that had bordered on pain it had been so powerful.

He should have soothed them both with a cuddle on the couch and a glass of wine. He’d felt inordinately tender, given how she’d been trembling, but when he’d withdrawn and turned her, their lazy kisses had caught fire again as quickly as their first.

His dumb stick had hardened, and his hunger for her had sharpened to acute. When he’d drawn back, both of them gasping for air, he’d been half barbarian, ordering her gruffly, Get into my bed. I want to do that again.

She had said exactly what she’d been saying to him all night. Yes.

What a drug. What a night. His orgasms had gotten better and better every time. He couldn’t even count how many she’d had. He would’ve been delivering another several right now if he’d stayed, which he’d been very tempted to do.

That was why he’d made himself leave—while she’d been sound asleep. Otherwise, he suspected he wouldn’t have been able to. But this meeting with his father and the rest of the board was too important. The fact that he’d considered risking their ire by rescheduling so he could stay and make love with Fliss had been enough of a caution light that he’d decided it was better to put space between him and the spell she’d cast over him.

Even so, he was still reliving that incredible sex when he arrived in New York and jumped into the shower of the hospitality suite below his office. He was recovering, he noted ruefully, and turned the tap of the shower to cold, then downed a hot coffee while he dressed in a clean shirt and suit.

Saint ought to have been mentally preparing for what would be a typically abrasive encounter with his father, but his libido was pacing restlessly inside him, griping, When can I see her again?

Never, if he was a jerk about it and failed to express his appreciation for their very exceptional night.

It wasn’t like him to be so punch-drunk from any woman, let alone one he’d just met. Hell, he still barely knew her. Most of their conversation later in the night had revolved around, Does this feel good?